


Darkseid Is

by scandalsavage



Series: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge [21]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Anal tearing, Blood, Brainwashing, M/M, Sexual Slavery, Size Difference, Torture, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25855657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: Just because the rest of the universe doesn't notice a shift in the timeline, doesn't mean that no one does.Apokolips exists outside time and space.Darkseid remembers those who earn his retribution. Regardless of continuity.
Relationships: Darkseid/Jason Todd
Series: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1407088
Comments: 11
Kudos: 125
Collections: Bottom Jason Todd Week 2020, Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge





	Darkseid Is

**Author's Note:**

> This is _not_ the Darkseid/Jason fic I've been teasing for like a year now. That one is part of a bigger story and it's going to take awhile to get to it (since it's toward the end). But this one came to me in the meantime and I thought Bottom Jason Week would be a good time to throw it out there. Sorry it's a day late ~~all my entries are going to be late~~. 
> 
> That said, this is probably going to get a part two eventually. I want to do more with the torture and brainwashing than I got to here, and show Bruce. 
> 
> Also... unedited. Sorry.

Waking up happens slowly.

Every bone aches, every muscle burns… he feels like he’s been thrown into a concrete wall by someone much bigger and stronger than him.

And Jason Todd knows what it’s like to be thrown into walls by superpeople.

His eyelids are heavy; feels like they’re stuck closed for all the effort it takes to pry them open just enough to see the blur of his own lashes before they fall shut again. Everything is fuzzy and weighted, like the air itself is pressing in around him to hold him down and suffocate him.

He hears voices, vague and distant and unfamiliar so he tries to listen. But his mind feels weighted and sinking.

Something is very wrong. That’s all he knows.

He’s been drugged for sure. Probably captured by an enemy.

What was he doing before waking up here? The last thing he remembers is being on Kori’s spaceship with Roy, on their way home from Tamarran. He has a hazy recollection of alarms blaring and Kori shouting before everything goes dark.

Finally, Jason manages to make the muffled sounds congeal into words. His focus slips in and out and he still can’t force his eyes to do more than flutter open a crack before falling closed again. But at least he can start trying to work out his situation.

“He is awake,” someone says. Jason thinks the voice sounds masculine but pitched higher and weaselly.

It’s a sharp contrast to the kind, matronly voice of whoever responds. “And heavily sedated. Changing the subject won’t bolster your position.”

“It was nothing more than an observation. My position does not need bolstering. It is revenge you desire, my Lord. Give the boy to me, and I will make him feel your wrath in every pore of his flimsy flesh.”

Jason does not like the sound of that.

“Torture for the sake of it does have its place. But pain in the pursuit of punishment and discipline are often more useful and satisfying than agony alone. Give the boy to me, Lord, and I will make him your willing slave. It will make your revenge on them both so much sweeter.”

That sounds even worse.

And ‘both’ of whom? Himself and… Roy? Kori? Are they here too?

He debates whether he should try to sit up or not. On the one hand, he doesn’t really want to draw any excess attention to himself. On the other, they already know he’s awake and he needs to get his bearings.

The surface he’s on is uncomfortably warm and hard like stone or metal. He tests his muscles with small, hopefully unnoticeable flexes. Stiff with an undercurrent of soreness. He must have been laying on this unforgiving surface for some time now.

When he shifts, rolling from his side to his front, trying to get his knees under him, the bickering above him stops.

A _huge_ palm lands heavy on the back of his head. The heel of the palm rests on his forehead and the fingers nearly brush the knob at the base of his neck before they curl back into his hair.

Jason yelps when he’s jerked upright to sit high on his knees, head pulled back, arching his neck in an extreme and painful bend. The sting in his scalp helps to clear some of the lingering haze and grogginess. He manages to slowly blink his eyes open only to come face to face with…

A groin?

Quickly, Jason tries to mentally run down the list of his and his family’s rogues who are anywhere near large enough.

But his eyes move quicker. Up to a belt with a familiar shape for a clasp. The omega symbol.

This has to be a nightmare, Jason thinks, as his gaze travels up and up and up until he finally reaches Darkseid’s stony face and burning, glowing red eyes.

His throat goes dry and every muscle in his body tenses. The words of the others, now behind him, come back.

Darkseid wants revenge on _Jason?_

Jason wracks his brain, searching for something, _anything_ , that could even remotely be taken as a slight by a fucking _god_ , but he comes up with nothing time and time again.

He’s never met Darkseid. Jason wasn’t around the couple instances Darkseid has attacked Earth (he was either a child before Robin, or dead) and even if he had been, Superman is the one who usually handles the New God.

Hell, this trip to Tamarran with Kori and Roy is his first time in space.

Jason wants to protest, wants to defend himself, but he knows the first would be fruitless and the second would be disastrous.

This is _way_ out of his league.

“What is your will, Lord Darkseid?” the weaselly voice asks as the owner, a “man” with a scared and twisted face, wearing long, hooded, blue robes moves into view on Jason’s left. Who Jason assumes is the owner of the other voice, moves to Darkseid’s other side.

Jason makes an undignified squeaking sound as the big hand in his hair jerks him side to side, examining him.

He sees out a window on one such forced twist of his head and his heart plummets into his gut.

Beyond the walls of whatever building they’re in, the landscape is hellish and bleak. The sky is blood red, broken up only by the noxious black clouds from the pits spewing unending geysers of flame. Monsters fly in grotesque swarms, and now that he’s focusing, the hot breeze seems to carry the soft echoes of screams.

Jason knows his eyes are wide in terror when his gaze is forced back to the creatures who call this horror world home.

After an eternity where Jason doesn’t dare to even breathe, Darkseid releases his hold and Jason slumps to all fours, head hanging between his arms. He couldn’t move, even if he dared.

“His looks are pleasing to me,” Darkseid rumbles, deep as an earthquake.

Tamping down on the sudden urge to vomit, and shoving down the startling realization that he’s been stripped of, not just his weapons, but his clothing, Jason chances a glance up in time to see Weasily Man huff in disappointment while the short, old lady gives him a sweet smile that makes Jason feel like he should just peel his skin off right now and get it over with.

“Whatever your desires, Lord, they will have no effect on his training.”

Darkseid’s unconvinced “Hrn” sends a shiver down Jason’s spine, but it’s his next words that make Jason start to actually tremble in fear. “Bring him to me at the end of each day.”

He stares down at Jason for another moment as his subordinates bow and Jason tries to work moisture in his throat to protest or attack or something.

He’s pretty sure he’d rather be dead again than… than have to go through anything they were just talking about.

But the words stick in his throat and his limbs refuse to do what his brain tells them to.

Then the god turns and leaves, Weaselly Man following hot on his heels.

The old woman smiles at him again and it makes Jason’s skin crawl.

“Hello dear,” she says, sugary sweet. “I’m Granny. Aren’t you just the most adorable little pet.”

Anger rushes through Jason’s veins, hot and indignant. It helps him find his voice. “Fuck you.”

Granny’s laugh is disturbingly light and airy. “Oh my. You certainly have a mouth on you. We’ll have to work on that. Lord Darkseid prefers his bed-slaves screaming or silent.”

She points some kind of golden rod at him and pain erupts from _inside_ him. It sears through him like lava in his veins. It’s so excruciating that he can’t even scream. His lungs seize and the air gets stuck in his throat.

It feels like hours before it ends. When it finally does, he crumples forward at Granny’s feet, gasping and writhing.

“Don’t worry dear, I’ll _whip_ the obedience into you. No matter how long it takes. Though I’ll bet it’s sooner rather than later that Lord Darkseid can use you for the second stage of his vengeance.”

Jason’s “Why?” is the only word he can force out and it’s cracked and dry and weak.

Granny just smiles at him again and doesn’t answer. “Come along, pet. We can get a good start before the end of the day.”

* * *

“Training,” it turns out, is a combination of torture and brainwashing.

The torture transcends anything Jason’s ever experienced before, the agony a whole new level beyond anything Jason could have ever even dreamed up. And it’s not as messy, not as gory, as what humans might do. Granny never once cuts into his skin. But her tools are more sophisticated than anything humans have and he’s screamed his voice away in the first hour.

It’s the brainwashing that truly terrifies Jason though. Because he didn’t even notice that’s what was happening. Like the torture, Granny’s method have surpassed anything humans can currently conceive.

Vaguely, in one of the spare seconds Jason has before his thoughts are ripped away from him by overwhelming pain, he knows he won’t last very long. Granny breaks _gods_ ; immortal cosmic forces. Jason Todd isn’t anything. He wasn’t raised a world class acrobat, or have any of the many advantages afforded by having wealthy parents, or born the son of the world’s foremost assassin. He’s a nothing and nobody who got mixed up in all this stuff on a fluke.

And even Bruce is out of his league with the New Gods.

“Tell me about yourself, dear,” Granny says while electricity weaves in and out of Jason’s pores. He’s certain she’s going to fry his brain.

But… when he answers her questions, she turns down the intensity. So he tells her everything.

Delighted, she immediately uses it against him.

One of her devices forces him to relive his childhood over and over again, slight differences each time. Hundreds of scenarios that are essentially the same except this time he met Batman when he tried to solicit him. One time Batman doesn’t take him up on it, but in a dozen others he does. In one of those, it’s just once, but in all the others it goes on until Jason dies.

Same with his death. Hundreds of scenarios, differing in small ways. One time Bruce reaches him in time, but dozens of others where Bruce watches as the Joker beats him to death, not lifting a finger to help.

Jason tries to cling to the truth. But by the end of the day, he’s not just questioning all the little details that used to be so vivid, but the big, foundational moments of his life. Did he meet Bruce stealing the tires of the Batmobile or stealing medicine for his mother or trying to seduce him?

By the end of the first day, Jason has given up on stubborn silence, on trying to lie, on trying to redirect. He’s given up on defiance. He answers her questions and obeys almost all of her demands.

He doesn’t even have the energy to be disappointed in himself. Doesn’t have the time or space to feel ashamed or weak.

That’s a part of it, he knows. Pushing him over the edge of what he can handle. Keeping every nerve and muscle and neuron frayed and dwelling on pain so that the only relief is found in obedience. Using the opportunity to twist his past to weaken his strongest bonds.

“You did so well today, pet,” Granny coos at him as the restraints are removed and Jason slides, boneless, to the floor. She squats down next to him, cups his face with one hand, and makes an approving sound when Jason leans into it. “Such a good boy.”

Then the touch is gone and she’s stepping away from him. “Take him to Lord Darkseid.”

Awareness is spotty again as Jason and his body reacclimate to the lack of agony. His brain is too overtaxed from the assault for Granny’s words to register. But he knows it’s a parademon that lifts his dead weight off the floor like it’s lifting a butterfly, and flying him through the heated air.

He passes out for the minute it takes to reach their destination. Jason doesn’t know where they’ve brought him or why and he doesn’t have the energy to care. He’ll happily curl up right there on the hard floor where he’s dropped, none too gently, and die.

The hand that wraps around his bicep is big enough to encircle the muscle so that the thumb overlaps the fingers.

Jason finds enough energy to scream, airless and broken, when the hand squeezes down and the _snap_ of Jason’s bone echoes of the barren walls.

It doesn’t stop the beast from pulling him up by his now broken arm, all his weight hanging off it, and throwing him onto something soft and cushiony as easily as if he were a doll.

He hasn’t cried for the last few hours, having used up all he had for the first bit of torture and the first couple trips down memory lane.

But they come back now, stinging the corners of his eyes before following the well worn paths from the many that came before.

When he drags his eyes open and blinks enough of the tears away to see, he kind of wishes he hadn’t.

Darkseid looms over him at the foot of a bed so big it makes Jason feel like a child. He tries to scramble away from the giant but his body is still too exhausted to make much of an effort. He really only manages to shift his body in place and then that hand is back, grabbing his ankle and _yanking_.

There’s a loud pop as his leg is dislocated from his hip. Jason squeezes his eyes closed and cries out again, and again little more than air leaves his lungs. But the tears are streaming steadily now.

Something huge and hard and heavy thuds down atop his groin and belly. Jason opens his eyes just in time to get a look at Darkseid’s impossibly large cock leaking pools of pre-come into his navel before Darkseid grips his hips, fingers overlapping, and flips Jason onto his belly.

He chokes on the pain as Darkseid puts his knees under him, forcing the dislocated leg to bend and bear his weight.

“ _P-please_ ,” he sobs. “Please… stop.”

There’s no way Jason can take the god’s cock. It’ll rip him open. Even for Darkseid’s massive size, it’s too big. Jason isn’t very experienced but he’s never seen or heard of anything like it. It’s not porn star big. It’s _horse_ big. And that’s not counting all the ridges and bumps Jason saw.

“Be silent,” the alien god says, sounding almost bored, as he presses the fist-sized head of his monstrous prick to Jason’s hole.

Hysterical, overwhelming panic sets in and Jason struggles to catch his breath as he starts to hyperventilate.

“Y-you can’t,” he tries again, voice thick and raspy, cracking on every syllable. He twists his good fist in the soft satin-like sheets in a futile attempt to pull himself away but he has no strength. “You-you’ll kill me.”

“Killing you would defeat the purpose,” the god rumbles. But the words don’t give Jason any hope when he drags the head of his cock teasingly up and down over Jason’s hole. The fact that it’s slick is no comfort either when faced with the sheer length and girth. Jason isn’t one for hyperbole when it comes to this kind of stuff but he’s about to be impaled by a fucking pole. “You will not die. And no matter how grievous the injuries to your fragile body, they can be healed.”

That is not a comfort either.

“ _Pleasepleaseplease_ ,” Jason sobs, more to himself than Darkseid, as the god’s cock stops directly on his opening and gives a tentative press. “W-what _is_ the purpose? I don’t… I don’t know why I’m h-here.”

Darkseid doesn’t answer him. Instead, he shoves in without warning.

Jason screams. It’s a little more of a sound this time, until he shoves his face into the bed as hard as he can and bellows into the mattress.

He feels his hole tear open. Feels the way the thrusting motion jostles his dislocated hip, the way his leg is numb but for a painful tingling.

It’s overwhelming. He can’t breathe for the pain and the head isn’t even all the way in.

He doesn’t even think Darkseid will be able to force himself in without using his hands to physically split him in two.

To Darkseid’s delight and Jason’s continued misery, the god proves him wrong.

The bulging head finally goes in and with each brutal thrust, carves Jason open in the worst way.

Darkseid’s cock feels like it was carved out of stone. Jason shrieks out what little air he has left and cries at each rock hard bump and groove stretches him beyond his body’s ability. He tries to make himself at least attempt to move away from the assault.

Then the first of the deep ridges that start only about a third of the way down the huge alien shaft catches at his rim and Jason blacks out.

He doesn’t know how long he’s out and it doesn’t matter. He wakes to agony. Every single inch of him throbs and stings and aches with pain.

His body rocks forward and back as Darkseid continues to fuck into him. Somewhere in the back of Jason’s mind he thinks it feels like the slide of the god’s cock moves easier.

Which, if the large wet spot that Jason is now kneeling in is blood like he thinks it is, the amount of it would explain the newfound ease.

And the new weakness.

Before, it was exhaustion. Extreme and overpowering in a way that Jason had never experienced before.

But now? This? This is a little more familiar. This is lying on a dusty warehouse floor trying to tap into reserves of strength that you’ve already used up to save the life of the woman who betrayed you. This is trying to hold the gash in your throat closed while your artery pumps your life into the rumble of a blown up building. This is blood loss.

He can’t do anything but lie there, silent tears soaking into the sheet under his cheek, feeling like he’s going to die again. Everything below his waist is going numb and he knows that can’t mean anything good but right now, it’s better than the alternative. At least there’s a little relief.

Finally the steady rocking motion stutters. And because Jason’s life is marked by one horror after another, he has just enough sensation left in his lower body to feel the eruption of unnaturally _hot_ , thick come flood into him.

There’s so much of it that, even when the cavernous stretch of his passage, there isn’t enough room. He feels it spill out past the giant cock still stuffed in the mangled remains of his hole.

When Darkseid does pull out of him, it’s abrupt and rough, careless. All Jason can do is whimper softly.

He manages a more alive sounding whine when Darkseid shoves him forward to lie flat on his belly, instead of his knees tucked under him. After being in the other position for so long, it hurts. But it’s not as bad as all that pressure on his dislocated hip.

Darkseid is moving around behind him and Jason is already giving in to the pull of darkness, heavy eyelids drooping closed. He doesn’t even flinch when the god pulls open his asscheeks and prods at him.

“In time, with Granny’s training, you will be able to take me with minimal injury. It is in your best interest to submit quickly.”

The idea of Granny training him specifically to take Darkseid’s cock makes him ill. But it isn’t an immediate threat so it’s distant enough to worry about later.

Not that it matters. He’s weary down to the marrow in his bones and the pain is beyond measure. He doesn’t even think about whether it makes him weak or not. They’re not trying to make him a Fury or one of Darkseid’s murderous minions. He’s not going to have to kill kids or do gruesome experiments on innocents. So if obedience can save him some suffering and make fucking Darkseid a little easier, he’ll do whatever it takes.

He’ll hang onto his mind as long as he can when it comes to the brainwashing. But otherwise? He’s going to survive.

Still… he has to know.

Jason tries to lick his lips but his mouth is dry too. Another cracked and quiet “Why?” is all he can manage.

After a brief pause, Darkseid turns him over onto his back. Jason chokes on a sob as the movement exacerbates all his injuries.

Darkseid’s stony expression and blank red eyes are as good as an emotionless mask as he looks down at Jason.

“You caused a lot of trouble the last time you were here,” the god says finally. “And your father has caused even more.”

Jason squeezes his eyes shut, sobs harder and shakes his head because…

“I-I’ve never b-been here b-before. Don’t… don’t know w-what you’re talking about…”

The hand that takes him by the chin (and incidentally wraps practically around his whole head) doesn’t instantly crush his skull so Jason feels like the touch is probably a gentle one. It unnerves him more than anything so far.

“No. You wouldn’t. You, like all life outside of the New Gods, are subject to the mercurial whims of time.” The deep, ominous voice hardens. “But my memory is infallible.”

He turns away from Jason, retrieves a device from a table, and presses a button. Moments later, Granny Goodness steps into the room.

“I told him to be silent,” Darkseid says to Granny, as though they’re discussing business. “He did not obey. Remove his vocal cords.”

**Author's Note:**

> Darkseid wanting to remove his "concubines'" vocal cords is canon. I'm not joking.


End file.
